Page 9 of Pride High

She laughed like he was being funny, and he instantly retconned his memory to make the joke intentional. “Although it looks like you have your own wheels,” she said. “That’s yours over by the door, isn’t it? If not, the old guy who just left is in for a long walk.”

He glanced over at where he’d propped up the skateboard once inside. “No, that’s his all right,” Omar lied. “He nearly knocked me off the sidewalk on my way here.”

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion before laughing again. That was a good sign, right?

“I’m Silvia,” she said, looking him over. Her attention pausing on his chest.

Omar inhaled as casually as possible to make it swell.

“Metallica, huh?” she asked.

He was momentarily confused until he glanced down at the shirt he was wearing. “Oh, right. I have a thing for skulls and lightning, what can I say?”

“But you like listening to them?” Silvia asked.

He wasn’t sure if she’d think that was cool or not, so he hedged his bets. “Yeah, but the new album is kind of lame. Especially the ballads.”

“Those are the only songs of theirs I like,” Silvia replied.

Shit. He leaned forward, and in a conspiring whisper, he said, “Me too, but guys aren’t supposed to cry, so…”

Silvia seemed to find this amusing. “What else do you listen to?”

Anthony was always pushing him to expand his musical horizons and listen to bands that had a message like… “Queensrÿche,” he blurted out.

Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows shot up in response. “Oh! I really liked that concept album they put out a few years back. What was it called?”

Jackpot! He actually knew the answer. “Operation Mindcriiiiiime,” he sang in a high-pitched imitation of the lead singer.

“Yes!” Silvia laughed again. “That album is hot. I’m going to listen to it tonight.”

“I will too,” he said before he could stop himself.

She didn’t seem to mind. “If you like them…” she said, walking past him down the aisle. A whiff of perfume hit him a split second later and nearly brought him to his knees. He managed to keep his feet long enough to follow her.

“Have you ever heard of Dream Theater?” she asked.

“No. Are they any good?”

She grabbed a CD and started removing the shrink wrap. “Give them a listen and decide for yourself.”

Silvia walked back to the counter, her back to him as she messed with a stereo. Her hips were wide, her butt ballooning toward the bottom, which made his jeans feel tight. He swallowed and forced himself to focus on other details, like the plastic wrap that was drifting to the floor. Most of the stuff here was used but…

“You can just open whatever you want?” he asked.

“Yup!” she said happily. “Best perk of the job. I get to listen to anything here.”

Silvia was smiling when she turned around. He was doing good! A guitar twanged from the store speakers, followed by drums and synth. He was thinking the music wasn’t his style before some serious grinding riffs broke up the pleasant melody. When the lead singer finally started belting out lyrics, he could see why she associated the band with Queensrÿche. And man did the song pick up speed just before the chorus! Omar bit down on his bottom lip and started banging his head. Not enough to make his hair a mess, but enough to show her that he was into the beat.

“They have some nice ballads too,” she said, switching tracks.

Soon they were listening to a moody piano and the emotional kind of vocals that Anthony often preferred.

“I can’t do this in public,” Omar said, shaking his head. “I have to be somewhere private to hide my shameful tears.”

That made her giggle. He was on fire! But the clock was ticking. He could see it above her head, the stupid thing reminding him that he was supposed to meet Ricky soon.

“I gotta run,” he said, forcing the words from his mouth. “Do you have this on cassette?”

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